Ashin Varanin
Professional Enabler
[member="Vheissu Ireles"]
NIRAUAN
WILD SPACE
FORMER MANDALORIAN TERRITORIES
At the water's edge, Vastor looked up across the jungle, taking the measure of the Hand of Thrawn. The fortress had four broken towers and the stump of a fifth, ruined by starship collision and serious orbital firepower centuries ago. The stone was treasure; so was the cortosis ore beneath the fortress' foundations; but the actual goal was something else entirely.
He fitted the rebreather to his mouth, and a few squads of stormtroopers -- their helmets sealed, and extra air tanks jacked in -- followed him down into the water. Scans had confirmed word of mouth: the Hand's foundations were riddled with tunnels and chambers, all flooded almost as long ago as the fortress's wound. Divers had found detritus of Spaarti cylinders, antique defense droids, and stranger things, all flushed out by some ancient and probably man-made cataclysm. Well, woman-made, if the stories were true -- Mara Jade was the name associated with the destruction.
A small handheld propellor-pod guided Vastor down to what the scanner crew called the most likely, stable ingress route. Twenty tense, blurry minutes later, he pulled himself up over a stone edge. His radiation deflection badge gave a low tone of mild warning -- the fusion reactor had blown eight hundred years back. Even without stormtrooper armor, he wasn't in any serious danger.
"Fan out," he said, pulling a glowrod from his belt. The lamp revealed old stone, high ceilings, and a number of tunnels. "Groups of four, one scanner per team."
NIRAUAN
WILD SPACE
FORMER MANDALORIAN TERRITORIES
At the water's edge, Vastor looked up across the jungle, taking the measure of the Hand of Thrawn. The fortress had four broken towers and the stump of a fifth, ruined by starship collision and serious orbital firepower centuries ago. The stone was treasure; so was the cortosis ore beneath the fortress' foundations; but the actual goal was something else entirely.
He fitted the rebreather to his mouth, and a few squads of stormtroopers -- their helmets sealed, and extra air tanks jacked in -- followed him down into the water. Scans had confirmed word of mouth: the Hand's foundations were riddled with tunnels and chambers, all flooded almost as long ago as the fortress's wound. Divers had found detritus of Spaarti cylinders, antique defense droids, and stranger things, all flushed out by some ancient and probably man-made cataclysm. Well, woman-made, if the stories were true -- Mara Jade was the name associated with the destruction.
A small handheld propellor-pod guided Vastor down to what the scanner crew called the most likely, stable ingress route. Twenty tense, blurry minutes later, he pulled himself up over a stone edge. His radiation deflection badge gave a low tone of mild warning -- the fusion reactor had blown eight hundred years back. Even without stormtrooper armor, he wasn't in any serious danger.
"Fan out," he said, pulling a glowrod from his belt. The lamp revealed old stone, high ceilings, and a number of tunnels. "Groups of four, one scanner per team."